


i went home and typed up everything you said

by willowcia



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Asexual Character, Gen, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 11:12:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowcia/pseuds/willowcia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She holds out a new mug that says 'I’m sorry you got beaten up by Russian mobsters while I wasn’t there.'<br/>He smiles in a way that says 'I hacked your personal email.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	i went home and typed up everything you said

**Author's Note:**

> So basically written because Eve/Q friendship has taken over my life and asexual Q is my new favourite thing. Not sure if I like this or not.  
> Title is from 'I'm so Post-Modern' by the Bedroom Philosopher.

 

They meet like this:

It’s three in the morning and he’s been arrested.

A police officer opens the door to his cell and she steps through, her heels clicking against the concrete.

“You can wait outside,” she tells him, “thanks.”

The kid lies on his back and doesn’t look over when Eve introduces herself.

“I’m dragged out of my place by men wearing suits at half past midnight, so you can either ask me to join MI6 or give me a sentence.”

Eve smiles. There’s nothing like a brutally honest teenager to wake you up in the morning.

“What gives it away?”

“That you’re from MI6?” This time he does turn over, eying her dry-cleaned skirt and recently-washed hair. “You’re hardly subtle.”

“And you’re sitting in a jail cell wearing pyjamas. We all have our shortcomings.”  
He rolls back over and says “So when does initiation start?”

-

It’s not her job to keep tabs on him, so she doesn’t, and with the reputation he’s getting she doesn’t need to.

To be perfectly honest, if she hears one more story about a social networking site he’s crashed, she’s going to kick down the door of his parent’s house and shoot out his hard drive.

Except she’s a senior agent and that would be unprofessional.

So instead she sits in on his psyche evaluation and sniggers at his word relations.

Afterwards, she stands outside the room with her back to the door and waits for him to approach her.

“Did I pass?” he asks, one hand slipping his phone into his pocket.

“You’ll see,” she replies, “and you’re not supposed to have those with you during initiation.”

“I didn’t.”

“Good,” she says, and gestures for him to walk with her. “I trust MI6 is living up to you expectations.”

“It’s been adequate.”  
“Of course it has,” she says with a ghost of a smile. “So do you know where you’ll be working yet?”  
“I can’t see myself on the field.”  
She smiles properly this time. “What do you know about the Q branch?”

-

“The tube’s been shut down again,” she accuses.

“I haven’t touched the lines for weeks.”  
It’s to her credit that she doesn’t outright hold him responsible for the hell it took to get to his apartment, just because she’s had a bad day and he’s only just got out of bed.

“They want to send you to Budapest.”

He puts down his cup of tea and she still holds hope that he’ll get changed out of his pyjamas.

“For fieldwork?”

“To monitor.”  
He locks eyes with her from across the room. “Will you be there?”

“If you tell M you want me to be.”  
“I can do that?”  
“You’re the Quartermaster, so yes, you can.”

He pauses. “Will I look like a twat?”

She tilts her head to one side and says “Probably.”

-

They only have contact once in Budapest.

He sits with his laptop open at a café and she murmurs “Q.” as she walks past.

His eyes don’t leave the screen when he replies “Miss Moneypenny.”

-

Between shooting M’s favourite agent and losing the list, she really doesn’t enjoy Istanbul.

On the bright side, it means she meets James Bond before he does.

“They can’t keep me off field work for too long.”

“You shot James Bond,” Q reminds her.

“Not more than six months.”  
“You have met M?”

“She gave the orders.”

“You carried them out.”

Her tone is neutral when she says “It was a clean shot.”

-

“Do you like Bond?”

Her house is at least twice as big as his flat and she doesn’t have to break into it. He likes it because it’s a lot like her but dislikes it for the same reason.

“I think I do,” he replies, removing his spoon from his cup of Earl Grey. “Do you?”

“So far.”

“Besides the time you shot him.”

She lets herself smile. “Yeah, besides that.”

Q strongly suspects she’s laced his tea with something, because it’s four in the morning and she’s right in thinking he won’t sleep otherwise. She watches him as he gets up and pulls his jumper over his head.

“Do you mind if I take your couch?”  
“What do you think?”

He hears her washing up and says quietly “Do you fancy him?”

She thinks she doesn’t hear him, but as she turns off the taps she replies “Don’t you?”

-

They both go to M’s funeral, more out of respect than any delusion of friendship.

The coffin is lowered and Eve doesn’t pretend to be more anguished than she is.

She stands there for a long time, not moving even though she wasn’t there, she didn’t see the bullet go in and she didn’t see the light leave her eyes. She didn’t hear M gasp when she dropped or feel Bond’s hands clamped around her. Her chest didn’t contract when she couldn’t find a pulse and she didn’t bury her face in her hands so a gamekeeper she hasn’t seen in years wouldn’t see her cry, so really, what right does she have to be upset?

Very little, Eve thinks, very little.

-

Here is what is supposed to happen:

The Quartermaster will track down the illegal files stolen by Hector Mashir and Agent 007 will use necessary force to extract them from their location.

Here is what actually happens:

Eve answers her phone in the middle of the night.

“You’re not supposed to be involved in this,” Q says and Eve can hear the tremble behind it.

Eve’s halfway out the door as she says “What’s gone wrong?”

As it turns out, everything.

Q’s flat is a mess. Furniture has been torn apart and holes punched through walls. She spots his favourite book lying open in the kitchen and the mug she usually drinks from has been smashed against the television.

She would call it cliché if she wasn’t worried about where the blood on the walls came from.

She draws her gun out of habit and calls “Q?”

“Here,” comes the muffled voice from the bathroom.

He’s crouched on the floor with a towel over his nose to stem the bleeding, and Eve feels like her gut’s been ripped out.

“You’re-”

“Fine.”

“Bleeding from the head.”

“It’s not bad.”  
“ _Q,_ ” she says, and feels guilty because if any field agent had wounds like this she would tell them to get up.

“Bond’s in danger,” he retaliates, probably just to get her to stop mothering him.

“How?”

“Mashir. Mashir got the files.”

“What about Bond?” she says as she coaxes the towel away from his bloody nose.

“I don’t know. I told him not to go after them but-”

“-but he’s Bond,” Eve finishes for him. “I’ll go after him.”

And she does, but she doesn’t need to. (Should she have expected any differently? It is _James Bond_.)

She steps over a body and onto the warehouse floor.

“Agent Bond.”

“Miss Moneypenny. Did Q call you?”

“Yes. Did you shoot Hector Mashir?”

Bond glances across at the body and says nothing.

Eve texts Q that they’re both alive and offers Bond a ride home.

-

She turns up at his apartment the next morning while he’s still cleaning up, and holds out a new mug that says _I’m sorry you got beaten up by Russian mobsters while I wasn’t there._

He smiles in a way that says _I hacked your personal email._

_-_

“You’re a secretary,” Q reminds her. “You hardly need a personalized gun.”

“It comes with a flashlight and tells the time. After all I’ve done for you, Q.”

“I seem to remember you got me arrested.”

“That was one time and we barely knew each other.”

Whatever gadget Q’s working on at the moment sparks as he digs some sort of screwdriver into it. Seeing his latest invention is probably Eve’s favourite thing about visiting his office-slash-basement-slash-lair.

“You don’t need a gun to kill people, Eve.”

“They help, Q.”

He could probably get Eve one of the new models if she asked, but he’s seen the footage of her taking down that rogue agent with a length of yarn, and he’s made the executive decision that the world is safer when she doesn’t have an arsenal in her closet.

On the other hand, her birthday’s coming up and he hasn’t organised anything.

-

Eve has never had the best aim.

That being said, she does manage to take down four of the intruders before they land one between her ribs.

One of them- not the leader, she’s marching into M’s office- points a gun at Eve’s head and says “Make a move for the gun and we see your brains on the floor.”

Eve grits her teeth and mutters “This is not why I took a desk job.”

She counts the seconds in her head and assumes M pressed the silent alarm because a swarm of agents arrive before she reaches thirty.

Someone passes her a rag and shouts “Can we get a medic in here?”

Two agents are hustling whoever just coordinated the attack out of there by the shoulders, and maybe blood loss is affecting her judgement because suddenly the corner of her desk seems like a comfy place to nap.

“Medic!” The person keeping her steady hollers again and Eve exhales just as she gets to one hundred.

-

“You’re not dead,” Q says perkily from her bedside. As perky as Q gets, anyway.

“Sorry if I’ve disappointed you.”

“No,” Q grins, “It’s great.”

“I’m going to have to do a physical evaluation, aren’t I?”  
“Probably. It’ll be good, actually, I know Katherine wanted to try out new breathing monitors on a field agent.”

“Q, I am _not_ being a guinea pig for some kid’s new toy.”

“I’ll make a note.”

“You’ll do more than that.”  
Q just smiles at her.

-

The thing is, they haven’t shagged anyone for a while. Eve’s been busy (and Bond’s been busy) and Q just doesn’t shag people.

It doesn’t matter to Q, and it’s not exactly a game-breaker for Eve, but the fact remains that they’re two single adults who have fallen into a habit of spending the night on each other’s couches.

The agents don’t comment on it. Of course they don’t.

And no amount of workplace gossip will stop Eve from passing out on Q’s couch after a hard night of obscure card games.

As soon as she wakes up, Eve knows there are two people in the room.

She reaches for her gun without opening her eyes and is ready to draw if she needs to, when Q says pointedly “Eve.” 

Eve feigns exhaustion and sits up, rubbing her eyelids.

“Hello, love,” the woman standing next to Q says, the type of woman who looks like she should be baking cupcakes while showering everyone in love and rainbows. “I’m-”

“Eve,” Q interrupts stiffly, “this is my mother.”

“Hi,” Eve manages, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“So,” Q’s mother says with an air of excitement that Eve feels unsettled by, “how long have you two known each other?”

“A while,” Q answers, just as Eve says “not long.”

Eve wonders if this would be less awkward if they were actually dating.

“I should head off,” she puts out, “but it was nice meeting you.”

Eve has taken a longer time leaving burning buildings than she has from Q’s apartment.

-

He gets one text from her when she’s staying in Germany.

_Bond just shot a government official. Talk to you soon._


End file.
